Annoying, for that matter as well. For whatever sick reason this is one thing I have to put up with due to the incessant stupidities that have occurred.
I've done things that I haven't been proud of, it's just fucking unfair that it would come all in one big smash.
Next time cannot be a next time if you just anticipate a next time.
Anyways, for the lighter side, I'm going on a vacation. Yippee. Whatever.
Cannot get over the fact that the hormones have gone berserk. Is it the hormones sans the pain in the ass? Or is it the pain in the ass sans the hormones?
PS:
Dear God, please grant me some sanity. I terribly need it. I don't want to be a Virginia Woolf for the longest time again, nor Percy Bysshe Shelley. (he wasn't sick, or so I think) Can I be like Mr. Albom or the Tin-Man instead? Or maybe Helen Keller, who didn't complain, or Nick Joaquin who wrote the hell of everything else.
I can't stand the tension anymore. :(
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